


His Eyes

by KingBumbles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingBumbles/pseuds/KingBumbles
Summary: The first time you ever see Dave Strider's crimson eyes is in the pale moonlight. You two were maybe, 16 at that point, having been best bros for 6 years. You think maybe he has some contacts in, but he explains to you, with his face flushed, after your determined blue eyes searched his scarlet red beauties, that his eyes were as real as they could get.In all seriousness, they take your goddamn breath away.You say they look killer.He doesn’t smile, but you do.





	His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> In which I don't know how to write John's character and John is a raging bisexual

The first time you ever see Dave Strider's crimson eyes is in the pale moonlight. You two were maybe, 16 at that point, having been best bros for 6 years. You think maybe he has some contacts in, but he explains to you, with his face flushed, after your determined blue eyes searched his scarlet red beauties, that his eyes were as real as they could get.

In all seriousness, they take your goddamn breath away.   
You say they look killer.

He doesn’t smile, but you do. 

The second and most recent time you see Strider's eyes, you two are watching a movie. One of those sick fucking movies you like. Or as Strider calls them, “lame flicks for pissbaby John.”  
You two are both 17.  
He looks godlike in the light shining on his face. Most importantly, his eyes. You don’t know why you find such childlike wonder in the subject.

“Staring, Egbert?” He glances over at you with the slightest smirk on his face.  
You don’t say anything at all, but you just lightly nudge him, laughing gently.

You think for the first time that you might be in love with him.  
You don’t think about it for another year.

You two are freshly graduates, free from the “confines” of high school, or whatever angsty shit you two had made up when you two were 14. 

Setting up your college dorm together, a whole new world for you two to explore, as broke college students. Dave is majoring in music, while you’re a biology major.  
You see his eyes a lot more now, now that you two live together, always breathing the same air.

He's so close to you right now, his breath mingling with yours. You swear you could kiss him right now.  
But you, John Egbert, do not.   
You do not kiss Strider as you are too afraid.  
You wonder if he's thinking the same thing.   
You don't think so.

You are definitely in love with him.

No later than a month into your freshman year of college does it really start to take toll. Being in love with your best bro. When he's talking you always look down at his lips, and pray to god he didn't notice when you look back up at him. You have come to terms that you have fallen for him so hard that you don't think you'll ever recover, as sappy as that sounds. You've always been in love with him, you know that. 14 year old you must have passed it off as deep admiration though you think it's more infatuation now.

Yes, you, John Egbert, are deeply and truly in love with Dave Fucking Strider.   
Of all the people to fall for, you chose him.  
(It was very involuntary. You would not have chosen that chucklefuck to fall in love with if it was your choice.)

A little more forward into freshmen year of college, you're now at spring break.

You are sitting there with him, tangled there with him like wires and it's miraculous that you have managed to keep from kissing him once, or holding his hand, or some other cheesy romantic gesture.   
It is a particularly cold day, the weak heater not exactly doing wonders for the small room. It's snowing outside, you are sitting on your bed with him, closer than usual. You want to kiss him.

John “The Wuss” Egbert strikes again and you do nothing about it.

Instead Dave talks about how he's never seen snow before, “It just doesn't happen like this in Texas,” he sighs.  
“Yet another reason why Texas is The Worst.” You say.

He laughs that gentle laugh that's like angels singing. The most beautiful laugh you have ever heard. You wish Strider didn't deprive you of this music to your ears with his poker-face bullshit. 

“It's true, bro. Texas sucks ass.” He looks away from the window to you. His smile is still lingering and god you swear if you ever get the chance to kiss him it'll be the day you finally feel alive.  
He ruins the moment by making one of those noises with his tongue and gives a thumbs down.  
You swear one day you will punch him in the nose. God, you love him.  
1 week passes and Strider is driving you wild. He doesn't even know that every time he looks into your eyes for more than 1 second you scream at yourself in your head because god he's such a little shit for running you up the wall, but at the same time he's so beautiful and perfect that you just wanna curl up into a ball and cry. (You probably have at some point but that's something Strider doesn't need to know. He'd probably laugh at you. Because he's an ass.)

Sappy, yeah. You are John Egbert and Dave Strider has turned you softer than anyone ever. 

He looks like a motherfucking angel when you see him out in the snow.   
You swear one day you're going to fucking faint if he keeps this up. 

You throw a snowball directly into his perfect fucking face and when he wipes it off there's a hint of that perfect smile and he says, “Oh it's fucking on.”

You two have a dragged out snowball fight, and each time you see him smirk or smile, hell, even laugh, it just becomes more evident to you that you are in love with him.

You two head back up to the dorms, covered head to toe in snow. He has ice in his mess of locks you call perfection and he shakes it out.  
Onto no other person but you, unfortunately. 

You open the door to the dorm and let him in first, accompanied by a mocking bow and he punches you lightly on your shoulder.  
You two are impossibly comfortable with each other, so obviously you two don't need to go into separate rooms to change, but you wish you had gone into the bathroom to change because you look back at shirtless Dave and your whole body seems to turn red. He turns to look at you, (you're still wearing your shirt and jeans, but no jackets or extra layers) and you immediately turn away as if you weren't looking at all.

He doesn't point it out.

By the time you are in new clothes, you are still red in the face, but you can just blow it off as still being cold.   
He asks about the redness, of fucking course.  
“Just a little cold in the face, is all,” You say. What a filthy fucking liar.

He doesn't say anything else about it.

He does look you in the eyes, however.  
As if he knows you're lying to him.  
And you meet his eyes and for a second you almost forgot how fucking beautiful they are. Like motherfucking rubies.

With a small smile that you would have missed if this had gone any different, he lays in his bed, curling up underneath the covers without another word.

Now is one of those times where you really wish he was in love with you, so you could lay next to him and...  
You're too drowsy to continue that thought.

You fall asleep, back facing to Dave.

Two weeks later, you two are back in classes. Studying at ungodly hours, talking to each other when you both should be dead asleep, bonding mutually over how shitty college has been but you have to admit it's been a wild ride. 

You swear he fucking knows that he's killing you. He's taunting you with that smile, and that laugh, and those eyes that you could say god spent a little extra time on. Crafting them from the finest jewels and gems, with blood sweat and tears. (Many tears on your part but whatever.)

You are going to kill him, you swear. You're going to kill him and when he lets out his final breath and he'll give you that stupid smirk then you'll walk up to the heavens above and beat his ass.

You are in class one day, bored as hell. Dave is sending you shitty Ms Paint drawings he did, and it takes everything within you to not burst out laughing in this boring lecture. He knows what he's doing too and you can imagine that stupid smile and those ruby eyes gleaming.

He even kills you when you think about him. Fuck that dude. 

Three years pass and you're out of college.  
Your bitch ass has still not kissed Strider. Figures. You two have an apartment together. You two have a dog, and her name is Casey! She's a big golden retriever, and you take her out for runs all the time, since you two do not have a backyard. 

The worst part of living together though is that you and Dave share a bed and it is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you. It's a one room apartment, and neither of you want to sleep on the couch. You two sleep in a huge king sized bed, if you were sims your sleeping hours would be the height of luxury.

It's a week after your birthday, Dave has his legs kicked up on your crossed legs. He is focused on his phone, whilst you are hunched over playing Skyrim for the 5th time. Your eyes focus in on the TV a couple feet away. This is the casual life you yearned for ever since Dave and you decided you were going to the same college. The casual Sunday passes with few words to each other. 

You get home from work the next day, finding Dave in the corner of the couch farthest from you. He's looking out the window, Casey is staring with him. You notice he's left just enough room for you in the corner. You go and sit by him, watching the sun begin to dip below the horizon with him. He turns his head toward you. Jesus, those eyes. You lean toward him. Just a tad bit. Dave doesn't move, he continues soul searching in your eyes. (God your internal dialogue is so dumb and sappy it's like the writer doesn't know how to write your character or something.) You glance down at his lips, before you can lean forward more, he lurches toward you and catches you in a soft kiss.

You, John Egbert, age 24, 6 feet tall, 218 pounds of raging bisexuality, are kissing Dave Strider.

And it's amazing.


End file.
